Wednesday, January 6, 2010

I love watching when you walk into a room.

Sometimes when it's cold and crisp and clear outside, and i'm laying in my front yard drinking orange juice from a coffee mug with painted suns on it, I start thinking about that time when you walked across a flimsy wooden board to get to my bedroom window at midnight so you could calm me down after i'd been crying over spilled milk like i do, and i smile with all my teeth.

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